A Dream Worth Chasing Part 1

As a teenager, being summoned by the King to deal with a rampant miasma beast because the noble families of Arkanothos had failed to subdue it sounded like the kind of far-fetched horror story adults told children who refused to eat their vegetables or go to bed on time.

For Sam, however, it felt like a step toward finally realizing her dream.

She stood before a panel of noblemen seated around a wide, curved table, her fingers fidgeting in front of her. A loose strand of light blue hair, darkening toward the ends, had fallen across her face. She tucked it behind her ear, only for her amber eyes to begin darting from face to face instead.

She had dressed as neatly as she knew how, though her light brown leather armor looked more suited for the road than a royal chamber. A sword rested against her right hip, a small polished gem embedded near the base of its hilt.

Her father stood beside her and somehow looked almost as nervous as she felt.

Gavin’s dark brown hair was slightly disheveled, a single streak of white cutting through one side. 

His deep blue eyes remained fixed on the throne. Black leather armor covered his frame, with several small pouches hanging from the belt at his waist and his sword resting on his left side.

Seeing him nervous only made Sam feel worse.

Neither of them spoke.

They simply waited for the man seated upon the throne.

King Landon looked almost exactly how Sam had imagined a king should. His hair was an unusually bright blond beneath the chamber lights, a jeweled crown resting above sharp green eyes.

“Sam Vaelmour. Gavin.”

His voice carried across the chamber.

“Your deeds precede you both. You have traveled throughout Arkanothos assisting villages with their growing miasma-beast problems and have even managed to cleanse areas previously plagued by miasma.”

The King leaned forward slightly.

“It is a tremendous feat.”

“Y-You humble us, King Landon.”

Gavin immediately lowered himself onto one knee.

Sam blinked.

Oh… right.

She quickly copied him.

“As you are already aware, Port Alamar has been dealing with a miasma beast classified as a Reaver Veyrath.”

Sam’s stomach tightened.

A Reaver.

The highest classification a miasma beast could receive.

“Without proper action, we risk significant losses,” the King continued. Then his green eyes settled directly on her. “Your Blessing of purification is rare. Perhaps even unheard of. That ability may be what we need against this creature.”

Before Sam could respond, one of the nobles stood.

“Your Majesty, I don’t wish to misjudge you, but how could we leave such a crucial task to… a mere child?”

Sam recognized Lord Ardent immediately. Gavin had warned her about him before. The head of one of Arkanothos’s most powerful noble houses.

“Stand down,” King Landon said. “Unless you have a better proposal, I will hear nothing more.”

Lord Ardent’s face soured as he sat back down.

The King returned his attention to Sam.

“Would you be willing to lend us your strength?”

Sam’s head shot upward.

There was no hesitation.

“Yes!”

~~~

Three Days Before the Operation at Port Alamar

Ever since leaving the castle, Gavin had asked her the same question.

“We still have a few days, Sam. If you want to back out, it’s not too late.”

“C’mon, Dad!”

Sam groaned as they walked through the cobblestone streets of Dravenholde.

“Can you drop it already? We already said yes!”

“I know, but this isn’t one of the Veyraths you normally deal with. This a Reaver we’re talking about.”

Sam knew he was worried.

She was too, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

The strongest Veyrath she had defeated on her own had only been classified as a Dread. Reavers were different…even deadlier.

So naturally, she decided the best way to calm her father down was to remind him just how confident she was.

Even if she faked it a bit.

“The Seven Heroes wouldn’t back down from something like this!”

Sam climbed onto a wooden crate. In the busy plaza, attracting the attention of the residents.

“Do you think Riza Legion dropped her sword and ran away when she faced the Dark God?”

The crate rocked beneath her, but she steadied herself and continued as though nothing had happened.

“Nolan Acacia defeated the Goliath! That was the last recorded Reaver anyone had seen, and that was hundreds of years ago!”

Gavin stared at her.

Sam placed a fist against her chest dramatically.

The stories of the Seven Heroes were among the first her father had ever read to her. They were why she had first wanted to pick up a sword.

And after her Blessing awakened, she had made Gavin a promise.

She would use it to protect people.

She would become a hero.

“I get it.”

Before she could continue, Gavin grabbed her beneath the arms.

“W-Wait—”

He lifted her off the crate and set her back on the ground.

Sam puffed out her cheeks.

Gavin looked amused, but she could still see the concern behind his expression.

Fine.

Then she would just have to prove it to him.

~~~

Port Alamar was normally filled with life.

Ships crowded its docks while merchants called from stalls selling fish, trinkets, and imported goods.

Today, it was silent.

The people living near the port had already been evacuated. What remained was an empty town buried beneath dense purple-black miasma, the sunlight barely visible through the haze.

Sam and Gavin had been stationed along the eastern side of the settlement. The plan was simple: the vanguard would drive the Reaver toward them, Sam would weaken it by purifying the surrounding miasma, and the others would finish it off.

Several noble houses had sent forces to assist, including House Ophelia, House Delacroix, and House Serrant.

With this many people, maybe a Reaver wasn’t as impossible as it sounded.

Sam stood waiting for the signal, one hand hovering near the sword at her right hip.

“Nervous?”

She turned.

Lord Ophelia approached with the relaxed stride of someone who seemed completely out of place in such a tense situation. Gray had overtaken most of his hair, but his black eyes remained lively beneath his brows.

He wore a red surcoat over his armor, an orange sun displayed across his chest.

“Well… maybe a little,” Sam admitted. “What about you?”

The older man laughed.

“As long as we’re here, child, you have nothing to fear!”

He slapped a heavy hand against her back.

Sam stumbled forward.

Ow.

For an old man, he was ridiculously strong.

“That Blessing of yours may very well be the key to our victory!”

Lord Ophelia studied her.

“Still, for someone your age to take on something this dangerous… what pushes you so?”

Sam didn’t need to think about it.

“I’m going to protect everyone!”

She placed her hands on her hips.

“That’s what a hero does!”

Lord Ophelia laughed again.

“I like your spirit, Sam!”

Then he turned toward the forest, and his smile faded.

Sam felt it a moment later.

A low vibration traveled beneath her boots.

Her hand tightened around her sword.

The Veyrath was awakening.